


Reset

by FabulousPotatoSister



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, Mind Manipulation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Simulation, Totally Normal Couple Things, bang bang pow two fics in a day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2019-09-06 06:57:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16827475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FabulousPotatoSister/pseuds/FabulousPotatoSister
Summary: "Darling, wake up."You groan and squeeze your eyes shut, the scent of detergent filling your nostrils as you cover your face with the duvet. There's a strangled noise that comes out of your mouth, as if you want to say "Not yet, five more minutes."





	1. Darling

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What's In A Dream? || 11th! Doctor X Reader](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4407521) by [midnighteclipse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnighteclipse/pseuds/midnighteclipse). 



> This fic -- years in the making. I dropped it when I sort-of left the Doctor Who fandom, leaving it to rot on my SD card. Until I decided, maybe I should continue this! Inspired by the episode "Amy's Choice", and by midnighteclipse's "What's In a Dream" fic, which was my first favorite DW fic.
    
    
    "Darling, wake up."
    
    You groan and squeeze your eyes shut, the scent of detergent filling your nostrils as you cover your face with the duvet. There's a strangled noise that comes out of your mouth, as if you want to say "Not yet, five more minutes."
    
    "Darling." A sigh. "Love. Sweetie. Dear." The 'r' is dragged out, and you feel the bed sink beside you. "Please wake up."
    
    "Nooooooooooo," you whine, trying to sink back into the sheets in the vain effort that you will disappear entirely and you can go back to sleep. "Leave me alooooooone."
    
    The weight shifts, and then there is an arm slung over your waist. You try your best not to giggle. "Flattery -" you slur, your voice still haggard from sleep - "will get you nowhere."
    
    "I flattered you and you married me." 
    
    The line is curt, but there's a warmth to it. Not being able to handle it, you roll over and open your eyes - and the first the thing you see is the face of your husband, John.
    
    "Hi," John whispers, his green eyes shining in the morning light.
    
    "Hi," you whisper back, and he giggles. "Good morning."
    
    You allow yourself to breathe in his scent; something old, but also new, with a hint of - pancake mix? And coffee? And… blueberries.
    
    That's odd.
    
    "John," you start, and you can see him pale. "Why'd you wake me up?"
    
    "Yes - well, you see -" He sits up, and you prop yourself up on your elbow. You can see the gears in his head turning when you quirk an eyebrow at him, and then he breaks into a wide smile.
    
    "I had to hurry up before you got grumpy, so I made a - a bit of a mess." A mess? "Wait here. Oh, and -" He smiles apologetically - "close your eyes."
    
    Pouting at him, you do as you're told and hear his footsteps as he leaves the room. There's the clinking of plates and a muttered swear -
    
    "Okay, open your eyes now."
    
    Pancakes. A whole stack of pancakes, a blueberry muffin, and a steaming mug of coffee are all laid out in front of you, like some sort of grand feast, and you can't help but cover your mouth in shock. 
    
    "Well?" John's looking at you sheepishly, the flour stain on his loose t-shirt more obvious now. "What do you think?"
    
    At a loss for words, you just shake your head and smile. Your eyes feel wet, even with the simple gesture - John seems to notice this and he holds your cheek, a small smile gracing his face. 
    
    "Oh my -" you stop yourself, smiling back at him because how did you get someone so perfect? "What's the occasion?"
    
    John hands you a fork and you start digging into the pancakes. "There's no occasion. I just felt like - like doing something special."
    
    At this point you're trying not to kiss the man with everything you have because your mouth is full of pancakes and it'd be kind of gross. All the while John is looking at you like you're a star, brighter than anything else in the night sky.
    
    "I'm sorry, I can't help but stare," he says softly, still looking into your eyes. "You're so beautiful..."
    
    You, with an extreme bedhead and ruffled pajamas, your mouth full of pancakes, beautiful. Setting your fork down and pushing the tray of breakfast aside, you lunge at John -
    
    "Hey!"
    
    He lands on the bed with a soft thump, and with you on top of him. You take his face in your hands and kiss his forehead, his cheeks, and finally his lips, and all the while he's laughing. 
    
    "You-" You peck his jaw - "are so sweet. You are so so so so so so so sooooo sweet! I love you so much."
    
    John leans forward so your foreheads touch. "And I, you."
    
    The two of you fall into a fit of giggles, the breakfast abandoned. You lie close to each other for a moment, forgetting about the world around you, when you hear a buzzing noise.
    
    "I think that's your phone, John," you say, still our of breath from the laugh-a-thon that you just had. "Maybe it's a call."
    
    John hums, scrambling to the other side of the bed to get his phone - he pales when he sees the screen.
    
    "What is it?" you ask, and he locks eyes with you.
    
    "I'm going to be late for work," he says, and then looks absolutely mortified when you laugh at him. "This is no time to be laughing at my misery!"
    
    "I'm laughing because you've still got time, silly." You crawl over to him and take the phone from him, peering at the screen. 8:40 AM. "You've got about… 25 minutes?"
    
    "Yes, but I like being early." John looks at you apologetically, and you nod. "Sorry, but I gotta go."
    
    "S'okay," you grin at him, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. "I won't keep you any longer. Go, you clever boy!"
    
    He beams at you, presses a kiss to your forehead, and then dashes out of the bedroom. It isn't very long before you hear the front door slam.
    
    Flopping back down into the sheets, you heave a big sigh. 
    
    Now that John's gone, what should you do?
    
    You lie down for a good amount of time, picking at your muffin, before springing to your feet with a renewed sense of vigor, one that you're certain you've never felt before.
    
    Strange.
    
    You pull up your hair in a makeshift bun and make your way out of the bedroom, looking at the different pictures that line the hallway. 
    
    There's pictures of forests and trees - the usual stuff that you'd see in a typical suburban home - but then there are things you don't remember being there. There's a picture of your wedding (your dress is frilly, but you recall it being streamlined and silk - or was it short and cute?), a picture of you and John walking together at the park (you were only two people there - who took the photo? What was the name of that park?) and John's diploma (you don't ever recall him going to medical school when you met him… when did you meet him?). 
    
    Pushing the thoughts out of your mind, you walk towards the living room, but your feet take you somewhere else - a room hidden by all the others, small with a beautifully painted blue door.
    
    Thinking that the room might be dirty, since you never went in there, you open the door and see that the walls of the room are full of posters.
    
    Not just any posters - posters of stars, planets, galaxies. The walls look full of it, and there's a lone computer sitting in the middle of the room. There are pillows and papers strewn everywhere - it's a mess, and there's only one person who could do it -
    
    "John," you sigh, shaking your head. 
    
    Moving down to clean up the papers, there's one in particular that catches your eye. 
    
    It's a sketch of two people standing in what looks like a futuristic city - the skyscrapers taller and flying cars zooming around. The two people are facing away so you can't see who they are, and for a moment you take a minute to appreciate your husband's creativity.
    
    And then you see a detail.  A bracelet on the second person's hand. It's thin, and looks like woven gold -
    
    Your wrist feels heavy, and you drop the paper. 
    
    It's your bracelet.
    
    Suddenly, being in the room feels wrong.
    
    "No, no, no…" You scramble out of the room, leaning against the wall. This can't be real. This can't be real. Where are you? Who are you? "No."
    
    You pat the pockets of your pajamas, trying to find your phone, but they're empty. You stagger to the living room, and grab the telephone - with shaking hands, you dial in John's - not John, not John - number.
    
    He picks up immediately. "Yes? John Smith speaking."
    
    "John." Your legs are shaking. "John -" The name feels wrong on your tongue. "John, you need to come home."
    
    "Come home?" He sounds confused, and you can picture him turning around to see if his boss is there. "But I just started my shift, what's -"
    
    "Please, please come home. Something's w-wrong," you stutter, and you can hear John's breathing hitch.
    
    "I'll be right there," he says gravely, and then hangs up. You can only slide to the floor in disbelief.
    
    None of it is real. You stare at the wedding ring on your hand and your throat feels clogged. What happened last morning...
    
    John barges through the door, sweating profusely. You lock eyes with him helplessly - he doesn't look like himself.
    
    "John, I - I need to show you something." You pull yourself up, and John rushes to your side to support you. Your chest aches. "I'm okay."
    
    "No, you're not," he snaps. You hobble to the room with the blue door and John pales slightly. Then he composes himself, like he didn't know why he did that.
    
    You pull yourself off him, and search through the papers on the floor for the sketch - that sketch. 
    
    "Where is it, where is it, where..." You're throwing papers left and right, digging through the junk on the floor, and John puts a hand on your shoulder. You throw a pillow to the side and find the sketch, crumpled in a corner.
    
    "Aha!" You pick up the drawing and practically shove it in his face - he steps back, befuddled.
    
    "That's - that's my sketch." John takes it from you and holds it close to his face. "What's so special about it?"
    
    "It's not just special, John." God, it feels so weird calling him John. But you don't want to shock him… or let the relationship between you end. "Look at it! That's me and you in the picture!"
    
    "Yes, because it's based off a dream I had," he says, not missing a beat. "Me and you together in a futuristic New York city."
    
    Then you see the flaw in the dream. 
    
    You didn't dream last night. What even happened last night? Was there even a last night?
    
    "When?"
    
    John opens his mouth to say something, but then he closes it before he can retort. You can see the gears in his head turning as he stares at the drawing, but they're turning too slowly. 
    
    For some reason, you feel like you're running out of time. 
    
    You take him by the shoulders and shake him - he drops the paper and stares at you, bewildered, while you yell in his face. 
    
    "You need to remember!" Your knuckles are white from gripping at his dress shirt. "It's locked somewhere in your big brain - You're not John Smith or some other - you're the Doctor!"
    
    "The - The Doctor…" he stammers, raising his hands to his head. 
    
    "Yes!" You press your hands to his face as his big green eyes widen in realization. "Yes! Yes, that's you!"
    
    "The Doctor - I am the Doctor!" The Doctor grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you in for a tight hug, before letting you go and doing a quick check on himself.
    
    "Hair - good. Eyes, I can still see. Bowtie -" He reaches up to his neck and he breaks into a wide smile. "Cool. At least it's part of my uniform. Sonic screwdriver -" The Doctor pats his pockets and then freezes. "It's not with me."
    
    "Doctor, we have to get out of here. We can find your sonic later."
    
    He smiles when you grab his hand and, oh, you wish he hadn't done all those things last morning. You're just glad he didn't mention them.
    
    "Again?!"
    
    The entire room shakes and you drop to your knees. The voice is high-pitched and vaguely annoyed; you try to pinpoint the source of the sound but it seems like it's coming from everywhere.
    
    "Marlene. Marlene!"
    
    There's another voice, timid and shy. The Doctor whips around. 
    
    "Yes?"
    
    "Test subjects 11A and 11B have escaped immersion." An exasperated sigh. "For the fifth time this cycle. Did you forget to intensify their wipes?"
    
    "N-no, ma'am." 
    
    "Well, they're awake. That's not good. Marlene, reset them."
    
    "WAIT!" Your plea comes out louder than expected, and the Doctor stares at you, confusion swimming in his eyes. "What's going on?"
    
    "Test subject 11B is as feisty as ever," the voice croons. "You said the same thing last time. And I'm going to say the same thing - it's classified."
    
    "Well, I'm going to ask again." The Doctor is looking up, his voice seething with anger. He extends a hand to you and you take it, pulling yourself up. "Where are we and what is going on?"
    
    "Sorry, test subject 11A. Or should I say, 'The Doctor'." The voice laughs, loud and menacing. "Not so "Oncoming Storm' now, are you? I just hope you cooperate. If I just get one successful immersion, I'll be the richest being in the galaxy."
    
    "No, you won't," the Doctor says, slinging an arm around you. 
    
    The voice turns cold. "Yes. I will. Reset them."
    
    You can faintly hear the Doctor calling out your name before you fall to the ground.
    


	2. Day Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and John have a day out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly 400 hits! Thanks so much, you guys. I almost forgot about this fic, and I've only really had time to write some short one shots and other things. Enjoy the newest update!

You wake up to sunlight filtering through the windows.

Feeling quite happy about this pleasant awakening, you roll over and inhale the smell of vanilla and roses - you made a good choice shopping for detergents the other day.

You open your eyes a bit and see John's sleeping figure. Dressed in a simple button-up shirt and comfy pajama pants, he looks more at peace than he usually is. Smiling, you reach out and sling an arm over his waist.

He stirs but doesn't wake up. He mumbles something under his breath that sounds like 'dinosaurs on a spaceship' and you resist the urge to giggle. Oh, John, ever the dreamer. You never had dreams, now that you remembered. It was nice hearing recounts of his dreams however. And it was nice hearing that you were always in them.

John shifts, turning around. His floppy hair is flopping over his face and his lips are parted slightly, but there are dark circles under his eyes. Strange. Didn't you go to bed at the same time?

You reach out to trace his jawline and he practically melts in your hand, his sleepy self apparently still capable of handling affection. You rub your thumb against his cheek and you see him smile - your heart bursts at the sight.

How'd you get so lucky?

"John, darling," you whisper, and he opens one eye.

"What?" His breath is warm on your face, and he smells like honey.

"Good morning." You move just a bit closer to him, so he can rest his head in the crook of your neck. "Sweet dreams?"

"Yeah," he mumbles, voice rough from sleep. He presses a lazy kiss to your neck and you laugh slightly. "I wasn't snoring?"

"I woke up just a few minutes ago, I can't remember."

John hums, and his hands find your hair. It isn't long before they're tangled together. "Well, at least you didn't wake up in the middle of the night."

You squeeze your eyes shut, hearing John chuckle softly. "Your snoring's not that bad."

"S'okay, I've heard worse than that," he says. He moves from his spot to gaze at you, his hand still tangled in your hair. "Did I forget to say 'good morning'?"

"I suppose you did," you say teasingly, booping his nose with your free hand. John grins widely and you can't help but grin back. You do love that boyish smile. "No work today?"

"Nope." John gets his hand out of your hair and presses it against your cheek just like you did to him a few minutes ago. "Boss said I deserved a day off."

You prop yourself up on your elbow, and John follows suit. "Hmm. Do you?"

"I've been working day and night and you still think I shouldn't get a day off?" John looks at you with exaggerated disgust and horror. "Who are you and what have you done with my wife?"

You laugh. "I'm just kidding, John, of course you deserve that day off. The question is…" You absentmindedly twirl a strand of your hair, pursing your lips. "What to do with it."

"A whole day to ourselves," John hums, and you nod. He's silent for a moment before gasping lightly. "Well, I did have some plans."

"Plans?" You lean in closer to him. "Now I'm interested."

"Good, good," he mutters. "D'you remember that diner we used to go to?"

You dig around your head for any memories of a diner, but nothing comes up. "No, I don't think so."

"Blimey. Really? You don't remember? Linda's diner. We had our first date there."

For a moment, you think, what is going on with this guy, you don't remember anything about your first date being in a diner - suddenly you feel a jolt run down your spine, like static electricity, and then you faintly remember something...

"We kissed over a milkshake," you begin, and John smiles.

"Yes! Yes, that one." John sits up quickly. "What do you say?"

You grin widely. "I say yes."

Your morning routine seems like a blur after that. You make a simple breakfast - banana pancakes and some tea - get dressed, fix your hair. For some reason, it feels irrelevant, despite knowing that your morning routine is something you could never skip.

"Are you ready?" John holds his hand out to you, and you take it graciously.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"Allons-y!" John cheers, opening the front door. "French for -"

"'Let's go'," you both say at the same time, and there is some awkward silence before you both laugh and start to walk to the diner.

John links his arm with yours and you walk along the sidewalks to the diner. The streets of your quaint little town are quite empty today, which surprises you because you always remembered them as bustling and busy and full of life.

"Where is everybody?" John muses, and you shake your head.

"I don't know," you reply, feeling unsure of yourself. "I… really don't know."

The diner is as fragrant as you remember. The place smells like sizzling meat and pancakes, and you see John taking a deep breath in before smiling widely.

"What do you say we get a seat at the front?" John leads you to the stools. Behind the counter is a shy looking young woman, maybe your age, with messy curls and bright eyes.

"H-hello, how may I… help you today?" she stutters, pulling out a pen and a notepad from a pocket on her apron. You smile at her warmly - somehow her voice sounds familiar.

"I'll have a strawberry milkshake and a burger, please," you say, and then John takes your hand from under the table.

"I'll have whatever the lady's having," he says smoothly, and then the girl nods, scurries to a door, and closes it very gingerly behind her.

"The lady?" You turn to him, and he grins. "You're trying so hard, John."

John lifts your face up with his hand . "Is it working?"

You swat it away playfully. "No."

He pouts at you. "I'll try harder then."

The waitress come out of a backdoor with a tray of milkshakes - suddenly she trips and the glasses come crashing down onto the floor, making a giant puddle of white frothy liquid.

"Oh no!" the waitress yells, then opens and closes her mouth like a fish. "Oh - no - no - oh no! Oh -"

John frowns, moving to edge of the seat. "I can help, if you'd like -"

"Oh! No! Oh no!" she mechanically replies, seemingly frozen in place. "How - help - may I? How may I may I may I!"

She's just like a robot, you think as she repeats herself. But she looks too real... silicone skin hiding complicated circuitry? Or is it...

The waitress, still stuck, flickers.

You lock eyes with John.

He stares at you for a moment, and then, slowly, he nods.

You dash towards the fallen tray - with all your strength, you fling the tray at the waitress. She lets out a shrill noise before disappearing completely.

"Hard light hologram," the Doctor says, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "She had just one problem - she wasn't programmed too well."

"She looked real," you breathe. "She looked better than the ones on Gargontin."

The Doctor extends his hand, and you pull yourself up. "I can't believe... how long have we been like this?"

Your head feels foggy, different re-imaginings of the same day playing in your head. One where the waitress didn't malfunction, one where you ordered fries, one where the two of you shared an actual kiss... You shudder.

"I see why they wipe us now," you mutter. "There's way too much up here."

The Doctor stays silent, turning over the tray.

"Why aren't we moving?" you ask, and gesture to the door. The Doctor shakes his head.

"They've deleted whatever's outside the diner. We're trapped in here now." He chuckles dryly. "They're clever. He's clever."

"The voice?"

"Yeah, that voice -"

"He - hello?"

You look up, recognizing the shy voice. "Marlene?"

"How do you know my name?" Marlene squeaks. "I never told you that! I, uh, yeah, I'm Marlene. Pretty average name for a Gargontian, I know."

"A Gargontian!" The Doctor perks up. His serious face turns into a wide smile. "They have incredible tech. I assume you made the hard-light hologram?"

"I did," Marlene says, sounding much more confident. "Learned from my people's mistakes, there."

"Marlene," you start, laying a hand on the Doctor's arm (he tenses), "can you get us out?"

Marlene giggles. "That's exactly what I'm going to do. In - uh - 15 minutes, the boss is gonna come up here and ask to wipe you again. Here's the thing, I won't do that."

The Doctor glances at you, grinning. "Brilliant, Marlene!"

"Uh, we'll make it look like you've been wiped, but you have to keep the charade up. I can't get you off the ship, but I can get you out of the sim."

"Keep the charade up?" you ask, feeling nauseous.

"Yeah. You, uh, still have to act married! That should be easy though, you guys have the highest compatibility rate out of all of our pairs."

The Doctor looks at you strangely.

"What... does that mean?"

"It means you're really good together! Almost like you're already in a relationship already! Which you are! Right?"

"No!" you and the Doctor shout in unison.

"That proves it. Compatibility was at a hundred for you guys." Marlene makes a popping noise, then clicks on her keyboard. "There were some people who were at a hundred with 11B too, but they were harder to place. Like someone named Rose - "

"Right," the Doctor says quickly, and you catch a glimpse of sadness in his eyes. His very expressive, beautiful eyes...

"Anyway - I'll just - eep! Guys, be quiet!"

"MARLENE!"

The voice is still as shrill and as high as it was before. "This - this! This is the fiftieth time!"

"Fiftieth...?" you whisper under your breath. The Doctor takes your hand and squeezes it, his brows furrowed. "Fifty times?"

"Did you mess with them?"

"No, no, Sir Heon!" Marlene stutters. "Just waiting for the reset call!"

"I'm getting tired of them," Heon growls, his voice becoming deeper and more monstrous. You jump, and the Doctor grabs your arm. "I've started wanting to kill them."

"Sir! You can't give up on the prize!" Marlene pleads. Heon hums darkly.

"Fine," he says, his voice still low. "One more cycle. If they don't fully immerse by then, you can kill them."

You clutch the Doctor's sleeve. "Marlene?" you whisper, and you hear a slam.

"I'm so sorry for this," she sighs, and the last thing you remember is falling into the Doctor's arms.


End file.
